


Butterflies

by Sammy_Canter



Series: Other Works [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: AND THE POOR BUTTERFLIES, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, But just a little edited, Gen, Have you ever written on a plane people, He did nothing, He needs helpppp, I feel so bad for writing them, I just randomly thought of it, It was so hard, Like, Like get away from this mom, Not really fully edited, Poor dad, She's probably crazy, So does Emma tbh, Soulmates, There's stuff in your ears and everything, Weird butterfly soulmate thing, Written on a Plane, ack, oh goodness, oh my goodness, so painful, weird mom, ya know?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 20:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17669732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_Canter/pseuds/Sammy_Canter
Summary: “Silver butterflies are common,” my mother said, holding one of the small creatures within the flesh of her palm. “They are merely red herrings. Pay them no mind." And with that, she crushed the butterfly as her fingers quickly turned her once-open hand into a fist.Soulmate au where different butterflies lead you to different people in your life.





	Butterflies

 “Silver butterflies are common,” my mother said, holding one of the small creatures within the flesh of her palm. Her dark brown-almost-black-skin contrasted delightfully with the bright silver of its wings, and for a moment I was nearly blinded by its glittering color. The creature looked completely and utterly helpless as it attempted to flutter its wings in a meek attempt to fly away, though it had no such luck. Mother’s fingers were faintly shimmering from when she had plucked it out of the air and damaged its wing. 

 “They are merely red herrings. Pay them no mind." And with that, she crushed the butterfly as her fingers quickly turned her once-open hand into a fist. There was no crunch or sound of my weeping at the action, but when she opened her hand its body was splattered into glistening bits of wing and guts. I didn’t react. 

 She brushed her hand onto the fabric of her dress and paused, humming lightly to herself. 

 “Bronze are the same, though rarer. Don’t listen to what people tell you about them, whether that be your grandmother or someone you don’t even know. No matter what.” For a moment I feared she might pull another butterfly from thin air for another demonstration of how much we should care for the insects, only to end its life in the end. She did no such thing, however, and instead pulled a small box out of her jean pocket. 

 Mother fumbled with the latch of the box for a moment, but when she opened it fully I was met with the devastating sight of a golden butterfly. As soon as the light met its shimmering form it began to flap its wings against the glass that held it back as if it were desperate to be free. 

 I gulped. 

 “Now these,” she muttered, tracing her finger over and glass and atop it’s outlined body. It withdrew. “are what you really need to look out for. The golden butterfly is unlike any other. They lead you to your true love, Emma. Did you know that?” 

 She looked at me then, dark green eyes shining unnaturally in the light of my bedroom. To some people, she might have looked like an excited schoolgirl. To me, she looked insane. Maybe she was. 

 “Isn’t that wonderful, dear? Your one true love. The one you’ll be with forever- no matter what.” I didn’t respond. My eyes hadn’t dared waver from the glittering gold. 

 “But,” I finally forced out, tearing my eyes from the box and to my mother, “it looks... scared.” Her expression looked pained for a moment before she snapped the box shut and shoved it back into her pocket. She stood from her kneeling position, placing a chaste kiss to my forehead as she strode to the other side of the room and to the door. 

 When there she turned to me, one finger over the light switch and a hand on the doorknob. “Well, sometimes soulmates don’t know what they really need- sometimes, they can’t make their decisions for themselves without tearing themselves apart. Much like your father, really.” 

 She flicked the light off and shut the door behind her. She never says ‘I love you’ before bed or wishes me a good night. When I ask why she doesn’t when all the other kids at school say their parent’s do, her eyes grow dark. 

 ‘You should only say ‘I love you’ to your soulmate.′ She would say. 

 The room is dark when she leaves. I am afraid of the dark.

Mother doesn’t care. She never has. She only cares for the gold of her soulmate butterfly.

**Author's Note:**

> I just randomly thought of this and decided 'hey why not write it on a plane because that's not stupid and vomit-inciting'. 
> 
> Go find yourself some butterflies, kids.


End file.
